


Rat Under The Apple Tree

by CathrineMcCord



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q Big Bang, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, dark!Q, post Skyfall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CathrineMcCord/pseuds/CathrineMcCord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of 'Skyfall' Bond finds an unexpected companion in Q.</p><p>But while Bond gradually heals day after day, mission after mission, Q is constantly dragged deeper by the daemons of his past.   </p><p>Every single one of Q's truths gets twisted until there is only one thing he knows for certain.</p><p>He will be the end of James Bond.   </p><p>_<br/>Written for the 00Q Big Bang</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear Lord Mother Marry and Will Graham it's done! I NEVER thought I'd actually complete this and I sure as hell wouldn't have if not for [dontkeepmehere](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dontkeepmehere/pseuds/dontkeepmehere) who pushed me at the beginning to actually freaking start with it, and then for the brilliant beautiful and absolutely stunning [Kelli](http://letseatthestars.tumblr.com/) who not only carried me through to the end, but who also made the wonderful podfic AND was my very patient beta, and last but not least my thanks goes out to my second artist [milky_haven](http://archiveofourown.org/users/milky_haven/pseuds/milky_haven%0A)  
> who cheered me up with her beautiful graphics when I thought I was about to go mad ... Thank you, Thank you, THANK YOU! 
> 
> Podfic read by the stunning [Kelli](http://letseatthestars.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Graphics (Cover, Banners, Dividers, Letters) by the wonderful [milky_heaven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/938609) ([LJ](http://milky-haven.livejournal.com/53744.html))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover by [milky_heaven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/938609) ([LJ](http://milky-haven.livejournal.com/53744.html))


	2. Cover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are a bad liar", Bond says and Q can't help but laugh.  
> "You'll find I'm an excellent one, if the need arises"

 

 

* * *

 

  
[♫ LISTEN - Part I](http://www.mediafire.com/listen/1iob85ze2ga1al7/Rat_Under_the_Apple_Tree_-_Chapter_1.mp3%20) **  
**

* * *

 

**NOT SUCH A CLEVER BOY**

_Q reads on the blazing screen before him._

_This is all it takes to make his world go tumbling down._

 

 

 

 

The sky above him is grey and cloudy. There is a brisk wind cutting at his cheek and hard drops of rain breaking on his forehead. The icy air rushes into his lungs and mingles with the burn already there. If he would be the type for sentiment, he would say that even the sky is mourning for M. But he isn't sentimental. This is just how London is, this time of the year.

Bond can't actually tell why he comes back here, why he is crossing the street now, nodding at one of the guards, as he makes his way down to the old Bunker that is still the home of MI6. He knows that the people inside are already packing up, "strategically vulnerable" seems to be the word of the hour. There is nothing that awaits him down there, really.

He will return eventually, return for good, he is sure of that. Of course he will. But it will be into new Headquarters, in a new suit, meeting a new M and accepting a new mission. At least he thought it would be like that.

Now he finds himself ignoring the second set of guards as he steps through the security door. And he is dressed in jeans that don't actually belong to him, given to him by some paramedic. Combined with a shirt that sits wrong in all the right places it paints a rather shabby picture.

Bond starts walking along the shady tunnel even though he knows that there is no mission to accept for him at the end of it. And no one waiting. And really, just 24 hours after 'Skyfall', he would wonder if there was.

But then, he wonders about a few things, lately.

How the world keeps on turning, for one. Shouldn't it, and there, he sees, lies some of his sentiment, be at least shaking a bit? Rattled at the loss of the woman holding it together?

And how is _he_ the one hearing his steps echo from the decaying walls and breathing in their moldy air? 

And as he can see the end of his way looming up before him he wonders why he can't step out of the shadows to walk into the building that once held his whole life.

He takes a deep breath. Then another.

Then he looks down at his feet. The toes of his shoes are neatly lined up with the last bit of shadow that the tunnel behind him provides. He takes another breath and turns his back on the light before him. A sharp turn to the left leaves him in front of a staircase hidden behind a column. Well, not that hidden for everyone who ever used it to get down to the training rooms. As Bond climbs them down now, they are blessedly deserted.  

The training room that opens up before him is dipped completely in darkness. Bond ghosts his fingertips over the light switch, considering, but then he drops his hands to his sides. Step for step he lets the dark of the old masonry evolve him.  He is, after all, a creature of the shadows. Now that M is dead, they are the only sanctuary he has left.

 _Ah, sentiment again_ , he recognizes. This is stupid.

But, as he carefully slips around unused training equipment and waits until his eyes adjust to the dark, he still can't tell why he came back here. It's not like there is anything left. There is no one to give him a purpose. And he is well aware of the fact that he won't be able to find one on his own. Not anymore. Not when he is not sure, if the last bit that was left of him bled away at Skyfall, or drowned in Venice. 

There is really, literally, nothing le- 

The loud bang of a door being thrown open rips him out of his thoughts.

Bond reaches for his Walther on pure instinct, but his hands come away empty. The bloody thing is still somewhere in Macau. With his usual fight response not working, he ducks behind the closest column and presses himself against the icy bricks. It only takes mere seconds and is completely soundless. The few seconds are all he needs to establish that the intruder probably poses no real threat. The fact that said person hasn't turned on the light yet, disconcerts him though.

Frantic footsteps echo along the walls and Bond realizes it is not the training rooms the person aims for, but the locker rooms that stretch out behind them. Whoever it is, his mind must be somewhere else, because he overlooks Bond completely as he passes the agent. Bond stays pressed to the wall as the intruder steps past him into the locker room. A second later light flashes through the small passage, followed by the sound of a cubicle being ripped open.

Then all that echoes from the walls is a horrible retching noise.

Bond freezes in confusion. Who on earth would go to the trouble of retrieving down here, just to vomit? Medical is located precisely at the opposite direction and there were definitely more charming lavatories along the way.  

So who on earth is this?

He skids along the wall carefully, leaning around the corner slowly, but the door of the cubicle is closed. There is no way of identifying the person from his position. Bond shakes his head slightly while the awful sound dies down to a rough panting. Maybe this is just one of the female agents, desperate to keep up their appearance. He isn't even supposed to be here, he definitely won't meddle with this.

Bond listens in to the breathing of the stranger for a second before he turns to leave. It sounds a bit anxious but not life threatening. He is nearly at the stairs, when a sob echoes from the walls. It is so small he might have overheard it weren't it for the acoustics of the old arches. Small and utterly broken.

"Damn it.", Bond murmurs to himself as his feet turn around on their own accord.

A streak of protectiveness that goes against all self-preservation. That's something the physiologist should have picked up on. Not that he was likely to annihilate everything around him, including himself, because of psychopathic tendencies. 

The light burns lightly in Bonds eyes as he walks into the locker room with full purpose. He knocks at the cubicle door softer than he actually thinks is necessary.         

"Hey, are you ok in there?", Bond asks and lets himself fall back against the wall.

There is a muffled sound and he thinks it sounds like _shit_.

Bond knocks again, "Should I call medical?"

There is a long silence at the other end. The only sound that fills the room is the still hectic breathing of the stranger. Just as Bond contemplates knocking again a rough voice speaks up.

"I'm fine", comes from the other side of the door and it sounds strangely muffled, "You can leave."

And utterly familiar.

"Q?", Bond asks in astonishment, and if it shows it's only in his features, not in his voice.

"I - I said you can _leave_ now.", Q grits out between pants. His breathing obviously gets worse by the minute. Bond furrows his brows.

"You don't actually sound good, I'm getting someone from medical-"

" _No._ ", Q cuts him of briskly. His voice edges on panicked. " _I'm fine._ "

Bond draws his lips into a thin line. This is getting ridiculous. He can hear a rustle of fabric and he thinks Q is probably trying to stand up. The small thud that follows indicates he doesn't actually get far.

 "Shit." Q's voice wavers dangerously. It sounds as if he can't quite inhale enough air. "Shit, Shit, _Shit_ ", comes out more like a hiss.

"Sod this ...", Bond rumbles, because he is surely not going to let Q asphyxiate right in front of him, really now. He rips open the door.

The young Quartermaster is huddled on the floor, leaning heavily against the wall, his feet drawn up towards his body. His hair sticks up in all kind of directions, his glasses are askew and his tie hangs loosely around his neck, as if he tried to rip it off. Most alarming, though, is the fact that his chest rises in frantic irregular breaths and that the hand he has clasped over his mouth is shaking so hard it rips through his whole body.

"You are not fine ...", are the first words that fall from the agents lips, because god, Q is a mess.

Bond kneels down and brushes some of Q's fringe out of his eyes. His hand comes away covered in cold sweat.

"I'm getting you to medical right now", he announces and stretches one hand out to help Q get up, "Whatever you caught it doesn't look good."

 The younger man grabs his wrist with a strength Bond didn't thought he possessed. At least not in this condition. Q shakes his head curtly.

"Not medical", he bites out. It would sound vicious, if not for the fact that he is struggling so hard to breath, Bond thinks he can see his lips go blue.

"Don't be a prat. This was not a suggestion, you need medical attention", the agent bites back as Q's fingers dig deeper into his skin. Bond tries to haul him up but Q is limp like a potato bag.

"I don't-", Q starts, but clearly doesn't have the energy to finish the sentence. The grip on Bonds wrist tightens a fraction. It's only now Bond realizes that, despite his current state, the Quartermaster’s expression is determined. Like he would rather die than let his body drown out his mind. Which is, given the situation, a bad comparison. Bond has to admit that.

"I'm not sick ...", Q breaths out and something really angry crawls its way into the young man's expression, "This is just a-",another strained breath,"- _bloody_ -", breath,"-panic attack." There is so much contempt in the last two words, Bond is sure this isn't his first.

"Just _go_ ", Q tells him through gritted teeth and Bond watches as the other screws his eyes shut in an attempt to regain his composure. There is a sudden feeling of helplessness nagging at the bottom of Bonds stomach. A picture of M's lifeless body flashes at the back of his mind. Bond feels his fingertips run cold the same instance and he has to take a steadying breath, because he won't, under no circumstances, deal with that now. 

"No.", he tells Q, his voice like a rock. "Tell me what you need."

Q makes a sound that's somehow both distraught and resigned and for a second Bond is sure he is going to push him away, but then Q's eyes flutter open again. "I just need to calm down", the young man finally pants. "I need-", he starts again, but there is another frantic intake of breath that makes him stutter. Bond watches the irregular rise of Q's chest for a moment before he continues to act on pure instinct.   

With the hand that Q is not currently digging his fingers into, Bond loses the buttons of his shirt until his chest is bare. The Quartermasters gaze immediately focuses on his movements, obviously contemplating what is going to happens next, and Bond feels the younger man's body stiffen minutely. "I really don't think-", he starts, but all the air seems to rush out of his strained lungs as Bond  gently takes Q's free hand and places it on his chest.

Bond exhales slowly as Q's ice cold fingers come to lie right over his heart. The Quartermasters breathing seems to have come to a complete halt. Bond links his own fingers with Q's as he catches the others gaze.

"You're going to have to breathe with me now, Q", he says, inhaling deeply and then exhaling slowly. "Can you do that for me?"

The only answer Bond gets is a strangled gasp, but Q's eyes stay fixed on his as the agent takes another deep breath. There is strength in the Quartermasters eyes that he knows he himself misses at the moment. At the sixth try Q finally starts falling into the breathing pattern Bond provides.

Their fingers start drawing tighter around each other with every exhale they take together, pressing harder against Bond's chest with every inhale. When Bond can finally feel the tremor smoothing out of Q's hands he slowly draws his wrist from where Q is still gripping it and brings it up to Q's neck instead. His pulse is still a bit elevated, but definitely calmer. Their breaths come in union.

"Better?", Bond asks quietly, never loosing the grip on the hand lying on his chest.

"Better", Q whispers, his eyes drifting shut slowly. Now that the exhaustion sets in, Bond thinks that he suddenly looks incredibly young. The Quartermasters hand starts drifting of his chest sluggishly and Bond takes it and places it in Q's lap.

"I'm getting you home now", Bond murmurs and Q doesn't object.

 

 

 

 

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Such a clever boy.**
> 
> **[CADEL]:           stop flattering me**
> 
> **[M3PHISTO]:     But it's true, isn't it? _**

_This is not how it starts._

 

 

Q blinks his eyes open sluggishly. He is not quite asleep yet, and he doesn't want to be, because he knows that something is off. The knowledge sits at the back of his mind stinging like a needle. It keeps him from drifting under, keeps him awake even as his surroundings try to lure him to sleep.

The gentle purr of the car's engine is like a lullaby and the soft leather seats seem to embrace him like a blanket. It is blessedly warm and though the air still leaves a light burn in his lungs when he breaths in, the smell of leather mixed with the scent of another person besides him, is really calming.

 _Oh, that's right_ , he thinks through the haze that is currently his mind. A bump in the road makes his head loll away from the window until his vision has shifted to the drives seat. _007._

Q watches in new found amazement as the dim light of dusk plays over Bonds rough features. His face is painted in so many lines and for a moment the system of it amazes him. The leather under his cheek turns from cold to hot as his eyes flutter close again. He always found systems amazing. How the entirety was always more than the sum of its parts.

"Tell me what triggered it", Bond asks into the silence. His voice flows placid over the purr of the engine.

"I can't", Q retorts as he forces his eyes open again. The feeling at the back of his mind doesn't ease of. He should be alert for this, he knows. But as he takes a deep breath the scent of Bonds aftershave tickles down his throat and despite everything he knows, he feels save.

"Is there need to know? If there’s need to know I'll stop asking", Bond continues, work always the first assumption.

"There’s no need to know", Q answers without hesitation. To him it really is. Bond huffs slightly and Q watches intently as his lips draw into a thin line.

"You are a bad liar", he says and Q can't help but laugh. It's hollow even to his own ears.

"You'll find I'm an excellent one, if the need arises", Q murmurs. The truth of this lies so heavy on his shoulders, for a moment he thinks that his breathing is going to turn shallow again.

But Bond doesn't say another word and Q falls asleep to warmth, safety and the scent of what might not even be aftershave. The last thing he notices before his eyes drift shut is the tight set of Bond jaw.

 

 

 

_This is how it starts._

_He is 15 and he is maddeningly brilliant. He just started Uni as one of the youngest attendants ever. In his free time he makes sure everyone calling themselves hackers know his name. There is not a single place he goes without his laptop._

_He is also incredibly bored. He can't connect with anyone of the other students. He hates hearing his real name called from any of his varying foster parents. And then there is the fact that he feels incredibly lost, if he isn't able to link in to the virtual world at any given moment._

_Inside his brilliant mind, right beside all the codes and blueprints, there is a void that still has to be filled with the weight of the world._

_And so it's no surprise that he falls for it. Not even for himself, when he thinks about it years later._

_His newest foster family is out to do the shopping when it happens. He sits on his bed, curled up in blankets, balancing his laptop on his knees. His glasses and clothes are very different from what he will wear in the future. The Earl Grey sitting beside him won't be._

 

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Do you want to play a game? _**

_The chat window pops up on his screen out of nowhere. He nearly spills his tea all over his keyboard, because even when he thinks about it very hard, he can't remember a single day someone made it through his firewalls._

 

> **[CADEL]:           how the hell did you get into my system?!**
> 
> **[M3PHISTO]:     Well don't you think you can figure that out on your own? _**

_It takes him the whole evening to get the intruder out of his system. The act includes a lot of swearing, placing a chair under his door so his foster parents won't be able to disturb him, turning the volume of his mp3 player up to max to tune them out as they try anyway by shouting through his door and peeing into a bottle, which, of course, he will deny later._

_In the end none of that matters._

_The only thing that he will remember is that he never felt more alive._

 

 

 

 

Q wakes to the feeling of safety. He can tell from the smell of the sheets alone that he is in his own bed. When he opens his eyes he doesn't need his glasses to make out the familiar shapes of his bedroom furniture. Everything is in place, every color, every sound, every smell.

It's the most unsettling feeling he ever had.

There shouldn't be peace. There shouldn't be order. There shouldn't be quiet. Nothing should be as it was. After yesterday nothing should be the same. Nothing should be in place. Q feels his breath speeding up as he scrambles out from under the blankets. Their familiar smell nearly makes him choke.

He knows with certainty that none of the shapes around him have changed, but Q fishes for his glasses never the less. The slight tremor of his fingertips makes it hard to put them on. When everything finally comes into focus, it's just to realize nothing has changed, nothing at all. The world still keeps turning. And he is still the same.

 _Deep breaths_ , Q tells himself as he hastily pulls the rumpled envelope from inside his cardigan. There is a tingling in his lungs when he inhales deeply and a memory flashing at the back of his mind.

_You're going to have to breathe with me now, Q_

Bonds voice echoes bright and clear in his head. Q fights another wave of panic. Not only had the agent seen his outburst, he had also stayed with him and very possibly brought him home. Q can't remember anything beyond getting into Bonds car. For all he knows Bond is still somewhere in his flat. _Oh god, deep breaths_.

The letter suddenly feels very heavy in his palm, despite the fact that it's just ordinary paper. Holding his breath Q opens the envelope and pulls out the paper inside. He wouldn't have to look at it again. He already knows every line, every word, to the extend were he could forge a perfect copy. He just has to make sure one last time. If nothing has changed, maybe ...

Just one more look and Q lets his head fall back onto the headboard in resignation.

Because everything has changed. This changes everything. This changes him. And no one can ever know.

Just one more look and Q tears the letter to pieces. He takes the shreds to the bathroom and burns them in the sink. Then he flushes the ashes down the toilet.

When he is done he gets dressed and steps out into the living room.

 

 

 

Bond stirs awake at the faintest sound. He never falls into a deep sleep when on assignment. And he supposes this kind of is one, considering he stayed on Q's couch the whole night to make sure the younger man didn't suffocate in his sleep. He rubs a hand over his eyes.

It's pretty easy to determine what woke him. Q is standing in the doorway of his bedroom, looking extremely posh in his khaki trousers, pristine white shirt and red tie. The bloody navy blue cardigan only emphasizes the appearance. From where he is sitting he can't see Q's eyes behind the reflection of his glasses. 

"You stayed", Q observes and the tone of his voice remembers Bond of the first time they met.

"Good morning to you too", Bond greets snarky while automatically cataloguing every aspect of the situation. Q hasn't moved an inch.

"Why did you stay?", he asks instead, not bothering to return the greeting. There is something off, but Bond can't place it. Q's face is as blank as his shirt.

"They sold my flat", Bond says, because a bold response is still better then actually thinking about the real reason," and your couch is quite comfortable."

"The crane in your neck speaks differently, Mr. Bond", Q remarks as he finally steps forward to perch on the arm of the couch. There is a brief pause in which Q seems to be assessing him, the eyes of the genius searching his face for something Bond isn't quite sure he even possesses. He stays stock still.

"There is a guest bedroom, you know.", Q says eventually. When Bond catches his gaze, Q's eyes are uncharacteristically dark. Like there is a weight on his shoulders that's causing his back to ache.

Bond has to swallow down the surge of protectiveness that swells in his chest. The feeling of duty.

"It's 'strategically vulnerable', you know", he answers with a crooked smile. Q blinks at him owlishly for a second. Then his lips spread into a wide grin. Bond is surprised by the thought _of I want to keep him smiling like that_. It makes his breath catch in his throat for the fraction of a second.

Because this, oh god, he had this thought before, he knows this feeling. He remembers that, a long time ago, something started with a smile like this.

Bond makes sure he is gone when Q comes back from making tea.

 

 

_"Have you ever wanted to know who your real parents were?", his therapist asks him from across the room. He wonders briefly if she realizes that he moves his chair a little further from her, every time he visits._

_"No", he tells her, because he already knows. Digital birth records are not that hard to find. Mother dead, no mention of a father. And frankly, he doesn't really care. Not anymore._

_"Do you ever crave someone to look up to?", she keeps asking, not satisfied with his monosyllabic answer._

_"No.", he says and he can't hide the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips._

_He really doesn't care about any of this anymore._

_By then he has already met_ **M3PHISTO** _._

 

 

Q isn't really surprised to walk out of the kitchen and finding Bond gone. The fact that he is carrying only one mug makes that pretty clear. If he would be the kind of person to doubt his memory, he wouldn't even be sure if Bond had been here at all. There is not the slightest wrinkle in the couch cushions, not even a lingering scent. Q lets his shoulders relax slightly. All went well.

Q sits himself down on the couch, careful not to spill any of his tea. It's still too hot to drink. He is aware of the fact that what he is about to do needs very accurate planning. It's also going to need time. And patience. And discipline. But first of all it needs a start.

Q gets up and places the mug gently on the coffee table. First he takes his tablet and starts with the necessary arrangement. Second he retrieves a laptop he has stashed away deep down in his clothed und powers it on for the first time. When he takes a sip of his tea hedoesn't even notice that it burns his tongue.

Three hours later he signs the lease for a single room apartment under a false name. The fake signature has no element of his usual handwriting. Then he purchases various items over the internet, via accounts that are untraceable, paid with money from an account in Switzerland. He has them delivered to the new address.

When his phone chimes up with a security alarm, telling him that Bond tried breaking into his flat, he doesn't feel any kind of panic.

Everything is in place. Everything is ready.

He is ready.

Q takes his time getting home.

 

 

Bond thinks he might have to reconsider some of his life choices.

And though he is sure that there are more drastic decisions he made, at the moment the most pressing question is the one of _why the hell did he think it a good idea to climb onto Q's balcony to break into the younger mans flat?!_

Because at some point there must have been a voice telling him that the head of Q-Branch had to have a damn good security system. Namely one that would not only prevent him from entering the flat, but one that would also keep him trapped on the balcony by applying voltage to the banister.

Now Bond sits in the middle of the balcony floor, strategically located as far away from railing and balcony door as possible, and switches between brooding and casting annoyed glances at the camera that he spotted far too late. He has no problem with the cold, but that doesn't keep the wind from creeping through the light material of his running trousers and tugging at the seams of his t-shirt.

After bolting from Q's flat that morning he went straight to the storage rooms MI6 had placed his belongings in. He had checked out of the hotel he'd been staying in before his flight to Shanghai and deemed it unnecessary to find a new one upon his return from Scotland. Q's couch had done the trick just fine. As he stood in front of his things, he had to admit that it all looked rather sparse without the Aston Martin to fill up the space. All his life fit into a couple of boxes at the back of the room. Bond went to the box he expected his clothes to be in and pulled out his MI6 issued training cloth. He had already established he was not one for sentiment.

While running through London he had very quickly found the reason for his emotional panic earlier this morning. He was still in need of a purpose for himself and seeing Q vulnerable and in need of help gave him one. Would he already be assigned to a mission he probably wouldn't have given much of a damn. It was as easy as that. At least that was what he thought anyways.

Feeling the cold of the balcony tiles steeping through the fabric of his trousers now, Bond realizes that there are two problems with his previous discovery. First, he isn't sure when he is going to be cleared for active duty again, and as a result of that he is now probably going to catch pneumonia, since there is nothing to get him distracted from his current 'task'. And second, now that he has nothing else to ponder, M's death is inevitably going to catch up with him. At the thought of that he feels every last bit of warmth drift out of his body.

Luckily this is the exact moment Q chooses to come home and find him. Bond gets the sudden feeling that it's not really him protecting Q. "You're going to freeze out here", the young man supplies helpfully as he opens the balcony door. Bond thinks he detects a bit of smugness in his voice.

"I'm a lot tougher than that", Bond bites back and feels his joints ache when he picks himself up. Q seems to notice, because there is a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Really? Well then my little electric fence must be more painful than I thought if it could keep you here."

"Maybe I chose to stay", Bond murmurs as he steps past Q into the warmth of the living room.

"Did you?", Q sounds skeptic, but he doesn't say anything more. There is silence while Q closes the door and Bond takes a look around.

When he came here yesterday he was so wired up that he didn't allow himself the luxury of observing the flat without looking for threats. Now he realizes that he wouldn't have thought of Q's flat as being as neat as it is. No matter where he casts his eyes there is order, even the copious quantities of books that line one of the walls are arranged in some kind of system. No scattered papers or forgotten mugs. Bond is especially amused about the chequered pattern of the carpet. He is also unable to detect any personal items. There is not a single photograph, not even a birthday card.

A warm hand on his biceps cuts him out of his thoughts. The touch prickles down his skin and makes his fingers curl.

"I think you should take a hot shower. I won't be held responsible for MI6s most lethal weapon catching a cold", Q tells him sternly and his hand falls from Bonds arm. "You can use the bathroom of the guestroom. I'll bring you some towels."

Q points him to the guest room and then vanishes into his own bedroom. Bond just shrugs and makes his way to the bathroom. Who is he to argue with a hot shower when he can't really feel his toes anymore?

He strips his clothes on the way, leaving a trail through the whole guestroom. He doesn't bother to wait until Q brought towels to step under the stream of hot water. Bond can't suppress a groan as every fibre of his body starts tingling from the steaming water on ice cold skin. He can feel every little cut and every minor burn he acquired at Skyfall. The pain makes him feel oddly alive.

When Bond finally steps out of the shower his skin is so red, there is no telling between burn and healthy skin anymore. To his surprise there is already a towel waiting for him. He hasn't heard Q stepping in. He wraps it around his hips and steps out into the living room again. It's gotten darker while he was showering. The only light illuminating the flat comes from the kitchen.

"You're dripping all over my floor", Q observes looking up from his tablet. He is perched on the kitchen table and Bond thinks that this demeanour is a funny contrast to the neatness of the flat.

"It's not like I'm going to put on my sweatpants again", Bond states with a small smirk. Q seems to be thrown slightly by that sentence. He blinks at the agent for a second, before laying down his tablet.

"Of course, I'm going to look for something wearable right away", Q says as he slides of the table.

Bond notices that his clothes are still as neat as they were in the morning and he can't help picturing the panicked Q form yesterday. It would be easy to think yesterday was just a dream. He keeps his eyes fixed on Q as the younger man goes to make his way past Bond and assumedly his bedroom.            

But Q halts right in front of Bond.

The agent thinks that sooner or later he is going to rip the bloody glasses from Q's face, because from the angle Q has his head bowed now Bond can't make out his eyes. He can only read the tightness in the Quartermasters shoulders and that disconcerts him.

"Q?", Bond asks raising an eyebrow.

"How does it feel?", Q asks with a mixture of pure curiosity and fear. When he looks up his eyes are as dark as they were in the morning.

Bond wants to ask what the other means, because, honestly, there are a thousand possibilities, but then Q's fingers ghost over the scar on his left shoulder. An image flashes through his head, of a dead man, a smile and fingers caressing that exact same spot.

The warmth of Q fingertips steeps right through his skin as Q maps out the outlines and it brings him back. Bond holds himself perfectly still until Q's hand comes to rest over his heart.

"Painful.", he says then and Q smiles.    

 

 

 

 

 

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Your coding is quite off today. Is something the matter?**
> 
> **[CADEL]:           no its fine**
> 
> **nothing wrong, just tired**
> 
> **[M3PHISTO]:     Dear boy, I saw you code after you've been awake for 48 hours and it was still**  
>  **brilliant. So what is the matter? _**

_He clenches his fists and pushes away the laptop a little bit. This is stupid. He is 16 now. Things like this shouldn't bother him anymore. He sighs. But they still do._

 

> **[CADEL]:           uni is horrible i don't fit in at all and its so boring**
> 
> **[M3PHISTO]:     I wasn't aware of the fact that you wanted to fit in.**
> 
> **[CADEL]:           idont**
> 
> **not really**
> 
> **[M3PHISTO]:     Then why does it bother you?**
> 
> **[CADEL]:           because they make me feel like im an idiot and like im powerless just**  
>  **because im  younger _**

_There is a long pause after that. The feeling that he said something wrong is growing so strong that it nearly takes his breath. He realizes with a startling clarity that it would probably crush him if he loses_ M3PHISTO _._

 

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Do you want to learn how to be powerful?**

_He lets out a breath of relieve and nearly knocks over his mug of tea to hectically type his answer._

_That semester most of his colleagues mysteriously fail their midterm exams._

_From that, it's a fairly easy step to ruining credit scores._

 

 

 

When Bond wakes up the next morning he finds the flat empty. He knows that he should probably be concerned about the fact that he didn't notice Q leaving, but there is no imminent threat at hand, so he lets it slip.

Q was right the first time around, his neck does hurt from sleeping and he decides that a hot shower would probably help. It does, but the hot water that rinses the pain out of his shoulders also makes him think.

He should probably get a new flat and for the time being a hotel room, staying here isn't really an option. Even if Q kind of offered it. But what is he going to do? Stay here until his next mission? And then what? Come back to this place?

That's just ridiculous.

He knows for a fact that his sudden and very strange fixation with Q is going to be gone the second he gets handed his new mission file. This is just a distraction. A fairly healthy one, because apparently Q doesn't keep alcohol in his flat, he confirmed that with a wide search yesterday, but still just a distraction. It's not about Q, it could be Eve or the girl from accounting for all he cares. At least he could shag those.    

Bond turns off the water and steps out of the shower. His towel from yesterday is still available and he sighs as he realizes that Q apparently hasn't expected him to leave.

Damn, he really needs to get a hotel. Camping on the couch of your co-worker, that you don't even know that well, after the death of the only person who still meant something to you, just doesn't sound right.

But as he steps out of the bathroom to put on his sweatpants and t-shirt, he finds them neatly folded on a freshly made bed, that certainly wasn't ready the night before, and the only thing he can think is _sod this_.  

So he puts on his clothes, runs all the way to his storage facility to get some of his stuff stops for liquor on the way back to Q's flat. He sincerely hopes that Q deactivated the security system of his balcony.

 

 

 

Work doesn't wait. So no matter how Q's personal life looks at the moment, he still goes to check in with Q-Branch, even though it's Sunday. For a moment he can't quite believe how easy it is to fall into a normal pattern. He gets so engrossed in his work, it is as nothing ever happened.

When his phone chimes up with another security alert it's already afternoon. He knows it is probably just Bond, he left the balcony electricity free after all, but his heart still starts beating faster. He tries to calm himself down with the knowledge, that, if everything goes according to plan, his flat should never become a direct target, but the unease is there anyways. After all nothing ever goes according to plan.

Q lets out a relieved breath as the security feat shows Bond placing whiskey bottles on the kitchen counter. He has to admit that he wasn't really sure about Bond coming back and he is certainly surprised by the fact that Bond apparently decided to stay. At least judging by the travel bag he stored away in the guest room.

He also has to acknowledge that Bond staying at his flat is the worst possible development regarding his plan.

And then, at last, there is the accepting of the fact that with what just happened, with what he knows, with what he's done, he doesn't only owe MI6 but also Bond personally. So if Bond needs to stay at his flat and drink himself into a stupor to get himself back together, Q will allow it.                

 

 

 

"You're late", Bond says when Q enters the flat. Q can't quite figure out what he is late for. There is an empty glass in the agent’s hands, but the shirt and jeans he's wearing are clean and Q counts that as positive.

"Good evening to you too", Q says while placing the takeaway he brought on the coffee table. After considering it for a second he lets himself sink down on the couch besides Bond.

When Q casts a glance at Bond a bit later, watching him pick up a piece of duck with chopsticks, he feels oddly safe, despite of all that's happened.

 

 

 

 

> **[M3PHISTO]:     You are awfully quiet today. What are you working on, dear boy?**
> 
> **[CADEL]:           ah, sorry**
> 
> **its a safe guard kind of**
> 
> **do you want to see?**
> 
> **[M3PHISTO]:     I would be delighted to._**

 

 

 

 

Bond wakes with a scream stuck in his throat. The first thing he does is reach for his Walther.

When he finds nothing under his pillow, because damn, he is sleeping on Q's couch and the gun is still rotting in Macau, his muscles tens up on instinct, one after the other until his body flames up in pain and a breathy moan escapes his lips.

"Bond!"                          

Q is there at his side the same second, ghosting his fingertips over Bond’s yaw and the couch dips beside him. Bond thinks that Q must be the stupidest person on earth to try to calm a panicking 00 agent.  

He wants to tell him just that, or alternately punch him in the face to make him learn his lesson, but his muscles are still on fire, he can't even move, damn it. Oh and then there is the bloody panic that still sits in the middle of his chest. This is just-   

All of his thoughts shatter when a familiar cold weight is pressed into his hand.

The sound of his palm print being accepted echoes over his harsh breathing and he unlocks the safety of the Walther on pure instinct. 

It's as if the gun in his hand grounds him, rips him out of his stupor. He takes a deep breath and his hand tightens around the grip until his knuckles turn out white.

The burning in his limps subsides and his breathing becomes normal again.  

"It's all right now", Q tells him, his voice soft. The Quartermaster hasn't moved an inch.

Bond can't even begin to grasp how grateful he feels at the younger mans presence.

"Thanks.", Bond rasps as he sits up a little bit. He puts the gun into safety again, but keeps it in his lap, his fingers curl lightly around the stock.

"I think it's time you started sleeping in the bed I provided a week ago", Q states calmly.

It's the first time since the incident at headquarters that Bond sees the younger man slightly ruffled. He is wearing pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt and his hair is sticking up in odd directions. The most startling change though, is the fact that he is not wearing his glasses. The faint light that streams in from the balcony gives Q's eyes a mischievous twinkle.

It looks beautiful in a way that Bond isn't used to.

"I'm just fine here", Bond tells him, because this is only temporary anyways. Q huffs slightly.

"Bond, I really don't think-", Q starts, but Bond cuts him short.

"I'm fine."

 "But-", this time Q stops himself. Bond watches silently as Q chews on his bottom lip and kneads his hands in his own lap.

"What?", the agent ask after a while and it comes out sharper than he intended. But this is ridiculous. They are both grown men, there shouldn't be anything they have to fidget about.

Q averts his eyes even further at Bonds harsh question. He seems widely conflicted with what he should do. Bond sights and out of instinct he lets go of the Walther and reaches for the Quartermasters hands instead.

The moment their skin makes contact Q's head snaps up and his eyes widen slightly, just as they did the first time Bond touched him at headquarters.    

When Bond catches Q's gaze the darkness in it threatens to swallow him whole.

"You keep sleeping on the couch because it feels more like you're on a mission, like you're protecting a target, and less like you're all alone, sleeping in the guest bed of a stranger", Q confesses after a deep breath and his voice cuts like shards of glass, "It makes you feel safe, because as long as you can pretend to be out in the field, you can also pretend that she isn't dead."

Bond stands up and leaves.

 

 

                                                                                                                             

 

 

> **[CADEL]:           you know, you are still the only one who could get into my system _**

 

 

 

 

When Q wakes up in the morning, he wakes up to another body beside him.

It's a strange and startling experience. From the mattress that is dipped besides him, over the fact that he can feel Bonds heat radiating right through him, to the mingling off his and Bonds scents in the air. These are not sensations he is used to. Not like this. Not with his nose tucked into the shoulder of a 00, or his toes curled around the feet of one.

Q rolls onto his side to face Bond and blinks a little. He is suddenly annoyed by his bad vision. He can conclude from the agents breathing pattern that he is still fast asleep, or at least he hopes he can, but the lines of Bonds face are blurry. He wanted to know if they would look softer without the nightmares. Now he can only determine that Bond is wearing trousers and a white shirt, his jacket and tie are hanging over a chair by the door and his shoes are out of sight. He placed himself onto the duvet, careful not to steal too much from Q, and his arms are crossed neatly over his chest.

The Quartermaster isn't surprised to see Bond here, not really. Bond might not be the best at dealing with his emotions, but he is certainly no man to run from the truth.

It's a little of a surprise he chose Q's bed though, but it doesn't really change anything. After all no form of Bonds presence is a good one at the moment. None has any kind of future. No matter how safe and calm Q feels right now. No matter how much his chest hurts at that thought.

Q nuzzles into Bonds shoulder again and takes a deep breath. There is this overwhelming scent again, the same as in the car about a week ago. Not quite aftershave. Maybe just Bond.

When he looks up again bright blue eyes are fixed on him.

"You said I should start sleeping in a bed", Bond says when the silence that followed stretches out for a bit too long. He almost sounds sheepish.

"I did, didn't I?", Q says and a grin starts tugging at his lips. He thinks James Bond has just apologized to him for being an ungrateful twat.

"You were pretty commanding about it, actually", Bond smirks.

A soft giggle escapes Q's lips and he buries his face into Bonds biceps again. Because it doesn't matter anyway. And he is going to take everything he can and hope that it builds Bond up rather than split him into more pieces.

The arm that Q has his nose pressed into lifts and slides around his shoulders. Bond draws Q up against him until the younger man's face is nestled into the agent’s neck. When Q slides his hand over Bonds chest he can feel his heart beat under his palm. It's strong and steady. No sign of all the cracks it suffered.

"I won't take back what I said", Q breaths into Bonds neck. The arm around his shoulder tenses for a second, so Q is positive he was heard, but other than that Bond stays silent.

"Because we both know It's true", Q continues clearer this time, "and because it's not going to go away if I do."

Bond stays silent. It might be out of agreement; it might be because he is trying to control his anger. It won't change what Q is about to say next.

"I have a proposition for you", Q announces and angles his head so he can look at Bond properly. Clear blue eyes focus on his. There is something in them, a spark of curiosity maybe, but the agents face is completely blank otherwise. 

"I want you to qualify for active duty again", Q tells him and when there is no imminent reaction, continues with, "I know headquarters won't be set up fully until the day after tomorrow, but the training facilities are already full accessible and Tanner would be ready to guide you through the process, if you wanted to."

"That's a request, not a proposition, Q."

"I know, I was getting there ...", Q feels the hand he has over Bonds heart clench involuntarily. "In turn for qualifying for active duty I'm offering you to return here whenever you are off duty, whenever you want, in fact."

"Why would I want that?", Bond ask and yes, there is definitely a note of anger in his voice at the knowledge of what Q is about to say next. Bonds arm stays securely around Q's shoulders.     

"Because you can't go back to whom you were before, at least not yet and maybe not ever. You can't come back from missions anymore and wait until she calls you out again, because she isn't there to do so anymore. You can't admit it yet, and you might never will, but you never waited for a mission, you waited for her to need you." Cold fingers dig into Q's arm and he continues, "You are without a purpose now and you know that you will break if you don't find one, but still you won't go and claim a new mission for yourself, because you are afraid that if you come back to nothing and no one waiting for you, you will break all the same."

Q winds out of Bonds grasp and sits up. He needs to look Bond into the eyes for this, without the agent being able to turn away. He needs to make clear he means it. Bond's arms cross above his chest.   

"What I'm offering you is time to find your purpose in taking missions again, to get used to the new M and the new system, without having to worry about how you're going to hold yourself together, because I'm going to be there to figure that out with you. When you are too uncomfortable to lurk around the new headquarter you can come here. And when you feel like you are ready to be you again, you just walk out my door", Q says regarding Bond intently.

Bond looks up at him face completely blank. Even if Q would be able to make out all of the lines of Bond's face, he still wouldn't be able to detect any kind of emotion. Not even anger.  

"And that's it", Q finishes. He feels breathless all of a sudden.

That is all he can offer. If Bond doesn't take it Q will probably worry about the agent, he will continue to feel guilty, but at least Bond would be out of the picture and his scheme would unfold without distraction. If Bond takes him up on the offer, Q can only hope that he gets Bond fixed in time.

It stays silent for what feels like forever.

When Q feels like he can't take it anymore, when the silence finally creeps into his chest and starts choking him, he gets up and goes to the kitchen. He is pouring the first cup of tea when he hears Bonds footsteps in the hallway. Q can't help the smile that spreads over his lips. The fact that Bond chose to let Q be aware of his presence is a good sign. And he knows, he shouldn't be happy about this, he really really shouldn't be, he shouldn't be happy about a wrong that he is _supposed_ to right, but he is, because that fact means the Bond is most likely to ...

Strong arms wrap around his hips from behind and draw him against a solid chest, just when he is pouring the second cup.

_... stay._

 

 

"I'm cleared for active duty", Bond says and Q smiles, hands him a carton of takeaway and pats the empty couch space besides him for Bond to sit down.

 

 

 

_"There is something wrong, you know it", she says ghosting a soft kiss on his temple. "You just can't see it yet. But you can feel it right here ..."_

_She places her hand over his heart. Her fingers are so soft, so warm, so gentle that his chest feels too small for all the feelings he carries for her. His legs are entangled with hers under the sheets, her silky black hair is spread on the pillow like a halo. He feels utterly at peace._

_"Do you know what it is?", he asks, smiling, stroking a hand through her hair slowly._

_She smiles back at him, eyes wide and open, knowing._

_He draws back his hand from her hair to find it covert in soot._

_When he looks back at her she is gone. The only thing that is left are dying embers._

_"It is you."_

_The voice in front of him is strong, familiar, ever commanding. It's not hers, it's_ **hers _._**

_He looks up at the woman who built him, the embers slowly burning away at his body._

_"You're believe that you are still the same man is_ wrong _. You are broken beyond repair", not even her ice cold voice can kill the flames that blaze around them._

_"I'm not done, I can still come back", he croaks through ash and dust, but he can't even convince himself._

_"And how will you do that?", she asks, kneeling down in front of him. Her blood smeared hand touches his check gently and it burns hotter than all the ambers at his feet._

_"If you have nothing to come back to?"_

 

Bond wakes unable to suppress the scream that breaks out of his chest.

He doesn't wait to see if he has woken Q, because he sure as hell has, he just jumps out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom. He stagers to the sink and grabs the cold china until his knuckles turn out white. His breathing comes in short hard gasps.

He feels sick and he wants nothing more than to vomit, to get it over with, get it out of his system, but his perfectly trained body won't let his mind display that kind of weakness. So he is left standing there, fighting for his breath and looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. Looking at this old and broken man.Completely useless.

He turns the water on as cold as possible and splashes it roughly into his face.

When Bond looks up againhe catches a glimpse of Q for the first time.

The Quartermaster leans in the doorway, he is wearing only a thin T-Shirt over tight briefs, his hair ruffled. _Oh god_ , Bond thinks, _I can't deal with this right now_.

Their eyes meet in the mirror. There is something in Q's gaze, something between worry and I told you so. Bond feels terribly exposed.

He lets his head hang low between his shoulders and starts laughing.   

"You were right, you know", he gasps between fits of desperate laughter, "You were so bloody _right_! I can't go back to who I was, because there is _nothing_ left of this person, there is nothing at all, nothing to come back too, _no one_ \- "

Bond hears his own voice crack on the last word, from a scream to absolutely nothing. It's the ugliest sound he has ever heard.

He turns off the water and prepares to turn around, to run away, but he is stopped in his tracks.

Cool fingers caress his neck.

In the few seconds that Bond has taken his eyes ofQ, the younger man has crossed the distance between them. A shiver runs down his spine as he turns around to push past Q.

The look on the Quartermasters face makes him halt anew.

It's the same he had when Bond found him in the training rooms. Determined not to let the situation slip out of his control. But now there is something more. Something incredibly dark. Bond gets sucked into it completely.

Q's ice cold fingers wrap around the back of his head, his palms framing Bonds face.

"Then come back to me", Q says and Bond feels himself come apart under Q's touch, under his promise and the only thing that catches him, just for a moment, are Q's lips on his.        

 

 

 

 

"Are you ready to get back to work?"

 

"With pleasure", Bond tells M, while he thinks of Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go [here](http://www.mediafire.com/listen/1iob85ze2ga1al7/Rat_Under_the_Apple_Tree_-_Chapter_1.mp3%20) to download Chapter 1 of Kelli's awesome podfic and  
> also visit her [tumblr](http://letseatthestars.tumblr.com/) to reblog :)
> 
> For milky_heaven's wonderful graphics go [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/938609) and [here](http://milky-haven.livejournal.com/53744.html)
> 
> The name [CADEL] is from the book Evil Genius by Catherine Jinks, he's the main character and he reminds me very much of Q. It's my absolute favorite book and completely awesome, so go read it! 
> 
> [M3PHISTO] is an allusion to Mephistopheles who portrays the devil in [Goethe's Faust](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goethe%27s_Faust).
> 
> And last but not least - What Bond did during Q's panic attack is something a friend of mine always did when I was experiencing one, it helped with me but it doesn't necessarily mean it has to help with anyone else!


	3. Blood On My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe pretending nothing has changed, makes pretending nothing is wrong easier.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

[ ♫ LISTEN - Part II](http://www.mediafire.com/listen/8i11ud1we6pc6a9/Rat_Under_The_Apple_Tree_-_Chapter_2.mp3)

  

* * *

 

 

_He lets his head fall back, only dully registering the ache that comes with hitting the headboard of his bed. He can feel his lip tear where his teeth worry at the tender flesh. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, so he thinks he probably should be acting a tad more indifferent, but damn, this one is a good one. He treads his fingers into the short hair of the man at work in his lap, and just holds on, holds on to the feeling, the sensation and the near blankness of his ever racing mind._

_“Oh shit, Alex –“ , the quiver in his voice betrays him, betrays how young he really is. How little he knows about the world. Genius kid, youngest attendant at his university, full scholarship, able to afford his own apartment, now that he earns so much with consulting jobs. None of that really matters, he thinks as he pushes the head in his lap down a bit more, none of that is really him. He is a concept in another place, under another name._

_He curses himself internally for letting the blissful feeling of nothingness slip, for starting to think again. Not even the obscene wet sound that floods the room is able to tug him under again. He lets his head loll to the side and opens his eyes sluggishly. As soon as the monitor of his laptop enters his line of vision his breath catches._

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Are you there, dear boy?_**

_The time stamp tells him that **M3PHISTO** posted this twenty minutes ago. _

_“Ow!”, Alex howls in his lap and it takes him a second to register that he hit the other with his knees while scrambling fully upright. He only catches a glimpse of Alex confused face, before he scrambles to get his laptop._

>   **[CADEL]:           im here _**

_“Hey what— Oh you gotta be kidding me!“, the bed dips besides him indicating that Alex has moved. He ignores it. There is still no answer. There should be an answer._

> **[CADEL]:           sorry ididn answer_**

_“You know what?”, he sees Alex pull his clothes on out of the corner of his eyes. “This is the third freaking time that this happens, so this is it, I’m not going to be cockblocked by a freaking computer! You – Hey! Are you even listening?!”_

_He isn’t. Why is there no answer?_

> **[CADEL]:          im here now**   
>  **sorry**   
>  **m3ph?_**

_“Tss, they were right, you know, all of them, you are just a arrogant little kid!”_

_He hears the door opening._

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Hello, my dear boy._**

_He doesn’t here it fall close._

_He can’t hear anything over the frantic pounding of his heart._

 

 

 

 

 

They don't tell anyone.

Bond gets his own flat, but it stays as empty as his storage room stays full, the only things making it into Q’s flat are his precious suites. Sometimes he thinks about burning the rest, thinks about rebuilding everything he needs out of its ash. Then Q accidently bumps his shoulder while they are brushing their teeth, mumbling some form of apology around his toothbrush, and he thinks he doesn't really need anything. It scares him, but not as much as watching M bleed out in his arms. It scares him the way kissing Vesper scared him. The knowledge at the back of his head, knowing that something is wrong, scares him.

Maybe that is why it's so easy to let, "Wait James, your tie ...", bleed over seamlessly into, "... please bring the equipment back in one piece, 007." Maybe pretending nothing has changed, makes pretending nothing is wrong easier.

But then again it's not like anything has changed, not really.

When there are missions Q is still the steady voice in Bond’s ear, when there are none Bond is now the steady presence at Q’s flat. Nothing has changed. Not really.

When there are missions Q can’t bring himself to sleep in their bed. He tries, avoids going home the first two days after Bond leaves for Kabul, but when Tanner basically drags him out of HQ, he really tries. He lays awake tossing and turning, his brain taking itself apart, thinking about every possible outcome, mixing and matching every variable and always stumbling over the possibility that Bond might not come back. Knowing that that would be the best possible outcome concerning his plan currently in motion and then nearly chocking on the realization that it would also kill him.Knowing  that peace and happiness was never an option doesn't calm him down. Knowing that there is no happy end in this, at least not for him, doesn't prevent him from stumbling out of his bed and sleeping on the couch for the full thirteen days Bond is gone. It doesn't prevent him from noticing that the couch cushions smell faintly of Bond.

When Bond comes back the first time around, Q shoulders are tense from sleeping on the couch, his eyes sore and his head pounding from not sleeping at all,most of the time. He growls at Bond lightly when presented only with the magazine of the provided gun, he reads the debrief and the medical report, does everything you are supposed to do when wrapping up a mission, without giving anything away. He thinks that that ugly feeling in his chest should vanish with watching Bond walking around HQ relatively unscathed. It doesn't. The tension bleeds out of his shoulders when Bond takes him on the hall floor, right the second he comes through the door of Q's flat, but the feeling doesn't vanish. When Bond smiles and places a kiss on his temple it nearly chokes him.

That first night Q sleeps on the couch all the same. He thinks it will get easier, but it doesn't.

 

 

It's about a month after Q set up his base at the nondescript flat that he meets with them. Them being the men at top of Silva's still existing network. In his original version of the plan, in his preferred version, he would have never actually met them. But the final version of a strategy, the perfect version, isn't always the one you prefer.

As he waits on their arrival in the plain hotel room he picked, he once again thinks about how easy Silva made it for him. He can't believe he never made the connection. He can't believe he trusted so blindly. After all only the paranoid survive. He sighs, rolling his forehead against the ice cold window. He actually never considered himself paranoid. He is way too caught up in his own head for that.

There is a click at the door and he separates his head from the window with clenched fists. As he sees their reflections in the window he hast to give everything he's got to suppress a laugh that he thinks would probably sound manic. He can't believe how easy Silva made it. He can't believe that Silva handed him the key to all this willingly.

"Now who the fuck are you?", a heavy French accent.

Q turns around slowly, hands resting behind his back. The Walther in his jacket feels heavier than it's supposed to.  

"Gentleman", he says and the calmness of his voice reminds him of what he said to Bond over a month ago, "If you would please take a look at your mobile phones."

"This is ridiculous", the one with the German accents chips but he reaches for his phone never the less. His breathless gasp has the others fumbling for theirs.

"This is-- You _sick_ little bastard! If anything happens to them, I swear to god--", Russian accent.

"You're just a shitty little kid,we should just put a bullet through your shitty head!"

"Don't you at least want to know my name?", he asks while he leisurely leans back against the window. The cold seeping through his cloth and creeping up his spine grounds him. It makes him think of arctic blue eyes.

"And what would your name change, kid?", French again, amused. Q clenches his fists harder.

"Oh, my name? Nothing", the smile that forms on his lips is as sharp as the blankness on their faces, "But the reputation attached to that name, that, gentleman, is _everything_.So allow me introduce myself, though I am sure all of you will find they know me already, even if that first meeting occurred at another place in another time." He steps away from the window and the fingernails of his clenched fists leave marks in the palms of his hands. "You can call me CADEL."

There is a full blown grin on his face now and it cuts as deep as the fear that seeps onto their faces.

He can't believe Silva made it so easy.

"You need not to worry, gentlemen, your loved ones are perfectly save as long as you all behave yourselves", he promises and none of them notices the bloodied marks on his hands as he pulls them from his back.

"Now, shall we begin?", he asks casually as he take his place at the head of the table. He presses his palms together until he can feel the sting of the fresh marks spread to the back of his neck. 

As all of them neatly take their seats without a word of protest, he once again thinks about the fact that he can't believe that all of this is a product of his own making.

 _You are a bad liar,_ Bond had said _._

Q also can't believe he gave that true of an answer.

_You'll find I'm an excellent one, if the need arises._

His relentless grin reaches his eyes and he can't believe he is so good at lying to himself about how this is going to end.

 

 

 

 

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Oh, my dear boy, your code is truly beautiful.**
> 
> **[CADEL]:           thx**   
>  **but you rly dont have to bootlick so much**
> 
> **[M3PHISTO]:     You rather like I didn't praise you so much? But I do have to admit I'm really proud of**   
>  **your developments!**
> 
> **[CADEL]:           of course you are, you make good money of them_**

_There is nothing after that. He worries his thumb between his lips and double checks his data._

> **[CADEL]:           did you think ididnt know**   
>  **that you were selling my codes off**   
>  **i found the list, the accounts_**

_Silence._

_He wants a reaction._

> **[CADEL]:           im not stupid u know_**

_No, he needs a reaction. He checks his connection._

> **[CADEL]:           after all it was you who taught me**   
>  **im good at what i do_**

_He needs something. Anything to show him that this is real.That this person is real._

_He tries to retrace_ M3PHISTOS _signal again. He fails._

> **[CADEL]:           brilliant actually_**

_He wants something. This has been going on for far too long. It's just a name. Data in a void.Letters on a screen. He needs more._

> **[CADEL]:           did u rly think iwouldnt be able to keep up?_**

_He wants more. He hisses as his teeth break the skin of his thumb._

_There has to be something. Anything.More._

> **[CADEL]:           isnt this what you wanted?_**

_But there is silence. He sucks his bleeding thumb into his mouth._

_This was too risky. Maybe this was too risky. Maybe now he lost_ M3PHISTO _for go--_

_\--Oh god._

> **[CADEL]:           come on**   
>  **you know imnot mad right?**   
>  **you can sell my code alright**   
>  **idont care**   
>  **are you there?_**

_Oh god please no. This is wrong. He knows this is wrong._

> **[CADEL]:           wana see the update on the safe guard?_**

_He knows it's wrong to feel so helpless without the guidance of a eight letter name on his computer screen. This is wrong. He knows something is wrong._

> **[CADEL]:           are you still there?**   
>  **pleasedont be mad_**

_This is so wrong. So sosososo--_

> **[M3PHISTO]:     Would you like to meet me my clever boy?**

_Oh god yes._

 

 

 

Sometimes Q comes home, something so dark in his eyes, Bond thinks that Q might be the death of him someday. But until that day he will shove Q up against the wall and kiss him until the younger mans eyes flutter close.

He wakes up in the morning, looking at Q's naked back and traces every vertebra with his fingertips.

He feels alive and it makes him want to stay.

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes Q comes home, something so dark lodged deep inside his chest, he is sure that it will be the death of him sooner than later. But until that he lets Bond shove him against the wall and kiss him until all the air rushes out of his chest.

He wakes up in the morning, turns away from Bond and shivers as soon as the others fingers touch his back. 

He feels save and it makes him want to cry.

 

 

 

It starts slowly, but just as Q anticipated. Just as he had planned.

It starts withanalert that his MI6 customized system sends him, an alert about glitches in his code, anomalies. It's followed by a confused look from R when he ignores it.

There is no alert after that, Q makes damn sure of that, but the plan unfolds just the same. Glitch after glitch, anomaly after anomaly and change after change. There is no need for him to run it through his head over and over again, after all every single detail of the plan has been perfectly thought through since the very beginning, not even the first glitch was a thing of chance, but he does it all the same. He replays everything in his head over and over again, knowing that his planning is utterly flawless. Over and over, because he also knows that there is one thing in his plan that he can't control.

His fingers brush over the disassembled parts of the Walther in front of him absentmindedly.

 _Just this one flaw_ , he thinks and feels his chest constrict. R's hand on his shoulder saves him from the scream that he can feel perched right under his chin. He looks down on her and hopes the darkness creeping at the edge off his mind doesn't reflected in his eyes.

"M wants to see you", she tells him and her soft smile says it doesn't.

She probably attributes the changes in his behaviour to his obvious lack of sleep. As he makes his way up to M's office, Q wonders what she would say if she knew what keeps him awake at night.

 

 

 

"Bond!" Eve's voice reaches him just as he drops his torn and blood spattered shirt into one of the training rooms bins. "Put on a clean shirt, M wants to see you!"

"What, now? I'm just back from Seoul...", he frowns and turns to the sink to do something about the blood at the back of his neck. His shoulders ache more than he actually wants to let on and considering how easy it is to admit to himself that he really just wants to get cosy on Q's couch, he thinks that it's legit to say he's tired.

"It's an emergency meeting. Kind of", Eve tells him as she turns around to pull a clean shirt out of Bonds locker.

"Kind of?", he asks while he puts his whole head under the spray of water, damn etiquette. He hears Eve's telltale sight as he watches the pinked water wash down the drain.

"Well, kind of, because an emergency meeting normally entails a whole bunch of people attending, but at the moment you are the only agent available. All of the other 00's are engaged in some kind of mission, so though M has explicitly asked for anyone but you, I've now come down here to get ... you." The tone of her voice only compliments her sight, though he is not quite sure if her wariness is her own or if she is reflecting M _. There are a lot reasons to keep a mission from me_ , he thinks as he towels his hair dry, _but only one M would consider relevant._ Only one that could actually get to him.

"No", Eve tells him sternly, obviously picking up on his train of thought, "I'm not going to tell you, telling you what this is about falls under M's reach. I'm not even authorized!"

Bond only flashes a crooked smile and trades the dirty towel for the clean shirt in her hands. "Fine", he says while shrugging it on, "I already know."

He already knows that this is about Silva, somehow. There really is only one thing the new M wouldn't want him to get involved with. Considering that it was M who pried him away from his predecessor’s body, it's a logical conclusion. Bond feels his stomach drop as the pictures of that night flash vivid in his mind.

"James ...", Eve sighs his name like a pleading and he forces his smile to show more teeth as he looks at her.  There is concern in her eyes, something that tells him that he isn't as good at hiding the soaring pain that rises from his stomach into his chest as he thinks. Something that makes him shrug and look away, because he can't bear for her to look closer. Sometimes he forgets that she was there that night too.

"Let's go, shall we?", he says, eyes still averted, doing the buttons of his shirt up on the go. They don't exchange another word and Bond finds himself hiding his hands in his pockets in an attempted to hide that they are shaking. _This is ridiculous_ , he takes a deep breath while thinking so and suddenly feels all the scratches and cuts he came down with in Seoul. Suddenly he feels M's blood still drying on his hands.  _Oh god._

"James?", Eve's voice is filled with ugly static, far away and twisted, overlaid with what he assumes is the frantic beating of his own heart. "James!", and he sees the floor come closer, but he can do nothing against his knees hitting the marvel pattern. The impact of it knocks all the air from his lungs.

"Dear Lord, you are shaking.", he registers Eve kneeling down in front of him, his focus falling on how her skirt folds from the movement. He can't register anything beyond that; can't really see her face, even though she makes him look at her with a gentle hand on his chin. "Your pupils are dilated, James, have you taken anything in Seoul? Has anyone given you anything?"

He nearly laughs at that, he would, actually, if there was any air left in his lungs. But there isn't and he can't laugh it off and so he just quietly ponders how the hell he should tell her that what brought the great James Bond to his knees isn't some lethal poison, but a plain and simple panic attack.

"This could be poison, we need to get you to medical. I told M it was too early ..."  

He feels Eves strong hands wrap around his biceps, hot like blood, searing through his skin, hot hot, so hot,  _oh god, oh god, oh, oh, no_ , like blood, like--

Cold fingers wrap around his neck.

And. Everything. _Stops_.

Bond dimly registers Eve's hands falling away from him, registers an equally chilling hand on his face, joining the one on his neck, and then, then he sees it. Like light dragging him to the surface of the sea. Then he sees Q kneeling in front of him, lab coat still on, tousled hair and dark circles under his eyes. Q, perfect Q.

"James,", Q's voice is firm and calm, the tiredness of his face in stark contrast to the awareness in his eyes, "You are going to have to breathe with me now", he tells Bond and the agent falls into Q's steady breathing pattern without any kind of further reassurance. Q doesn't even move his hands from Bond's neck and cheeks, he just looks him straight in the eyes. For the first time in their encounter the darkness lurking at the edge of Q's gazefeels reassuring. It feels familiar.

"Better?", Q let's his hands glide to Bond's shoulders as soon as he feels the other relax slightly.

Bond takes another deep breath before he nods. "Better."

He catches a glimpse of Eve as he hoists himself up from the floor, Q's steady hands never leaving him. He would have suspected some kind of confusion on her face, given the encounter she just witnessed, but there is only calm and knowing. Calm, knowing and a sadness that cuts right through to his bones. He wants to ask her what this is about, if she has seen what he only suspects somewhere in the depths of his mind. If she has seen that something is wrong. If she might be able to tell him what that is exactly.

"We need to go", is all Eve says after she looks him over and apparently finds him fit to go, "M is still waiting for the two of you."

"For the two of us?", Bond frowns and looks at Q who doesn't seem surprised.

"This is about Silva, isn't it?", Q explains while he makes his way ahead of them, "It's only logical to consult with the two people who were most involved with the mission." The only two still alive, he doesn't say.

There is something in the curl of Q's lips as he says it that makes Bond refrain from telling him that it wasn't logical or obvious to him. There is also the fact that they are already at M's door.

"I'll wait outside", Eve informs them as she knocks and opens the door ."Sir?Bond and Q."

"Come in Gentlemen." M pushes away some of the files in front of him and leans back in his chair. There is still a little stiffness to his shoulder as he does so. "Fell free to take a seat, but I suspect this won't take long."

They both stay standing.

"It has come to my attention that Silva's network might be a lot more extensive than what we originally anticipated. We were unable to see that up until now because, as Q very well knows, Silva left nearly no evidence of his operations, or their scale, on any of the evidence we confiscated. We probably would never have made any kind of connection if not for Tanners monitoring of certain deaths and arrests among the circles we believe Silva walked in. The profile we assembled from them doesn't only imply the range of Silva's network, but gives us also strong reason to believe that someone is reorganizing said network by rearranging the pieces through deaths and arrests."  

"You are telling us there is someone walking in Silva's footsteps?", Bond huffs, unbelieving. That is ridiculous. Silva's sole purpose was his relationship with M and the plot of revenge that came of that. There was nothing more to it.

"No, what I'm saying is, that whoever is doing this isn't simply walking in someone's footsteps. This person has intimate knowledge about the workings of this network. And as we know Silva was very careful about his manoeuvres, which ultimately means that that intimate knowledge must have been acquired with Silva's consent."

"So this doesn't make that person someone who simply saw an opportunity, it makes him or her a successor." There is an edge to Q's voice as he says it, something buried deep, but Bond isn't sure if he isn't just imagining it.

"Yes, exactly.Which, ultimately, makes this person very dangerous." M looks straight at Bond as he says that, maybe as a warning. Bond takes it as prompt.

"What can we do?", he asks and actively relaxes his strained shoulders.

"Well, luckily for us we do already have a lead. There is one name that shines up on more than one occasion." M turns to look at Q. "And that is also why I asked you here. I do trust that you have increased our level of security already, but other than that I think there is another insight that probably only you can offer us."

No matter if he had imagined the edge to Q's voice before or not, Bond can clearly see Q tense up now. The tight set of the Quartermaster's yaw is accompanied by a slow gulp, followed by a nervous lick of his lips. When he speaks he deliberately avoids looking at Bond.

"I assume you are talking about the criminal record I attained before my work at the MI6?"

Bond wouldn't be a professional if he couldn't keep the surprise off his face. Especially not if it isn't that much of a surprise to begin with. The only response that the information is triggering inside him is the return of that uneasy knowledge of _something is wrong_ , at the back of his mind.

"A pretty impressive criminal record, yes. I hoped that the name we are attributing all of this too might have some kind of meaning to you." Q nods for M to continue, still avoiding to look at Bond. "Have you ever heard of someone by the name of Cadel?"

There is a beat of silence, a moment were Q seems to consider this new information. Then he slowly shakes his head and the tension seems to bleed out of his shoulders.

"No, sir. I've never heard that name before", Q says calmly and Bond watches the steady beat of pulse on Q's neck. 

A memory flashes through his mind, quick and fleeting, of leather seats and dusk and hushed words, but it's gone as quickly as it came. The only thing he can really focus on is Q's even voice as he tells M that he will look into the matter. 

 

 

 

_He is probably going to have a panic attack. No. Actually, he is 100 % sure he is going to have a panic attack. After all he is going to meet the most important person of his life today._

_He taps his feet nervously on the floor until one of the waiters looks at him annoyed. He sticks out his tongue and keeps tapping his feet. He is 18 now, but he looks so young he can still get away with being childish. After the second annoyed look he starts tapping his fingers in union with his feet. He has to admit that he is getting a little nervous, on top of the pending panic attack. Especially considering the place and time of their meeting, in front of a popular Café at midday with people buzzing around him. A good location to meet a friend, yes, but the person you, for the last three years, spoke too only through highly secure online transmissions? Not so much._

_With all the security_ **M3PHISTO** _always insisted on he would have suspected their meeting place to be some dodgy back alley or an abandoned warehouse. Maybe he thought Cadel wouldn't show up if the place was too creepy. As if he wouldn't go anywhere for--_

_"Heinrich Faust?"_

_His hands and feet freeze in mid motion._ That name _. That can't be real._

_"Wha-- me, that's me ...", he stammers, awkwardly waving at the bike courier standing on the sidewalk. The young man frowns at him for a second, given that old nameheobviously must be confused by his young looks, especially with his rumpled shirt and cord trousers underlining them. He knows he probably looks like his mother picked out his clothes for him, but he isn't yet at the point where he understands that appearance is important when you are trying to deceive someone._

_"Ok, yea. This is for you, sir. Sign here please." The courier places a rectangular package in front of him and hands him a pad to sign his name. He does, absentmindedly, his eyes already roaming the package for any kind of clue as to who send it._

_"Excuse me", he asks after he's done signing, "Who are you delivering this for?"_

_"Doesn't it say on the package? Just a second ... ah, here! Um ... ", another frown, "It's from a guy called Mephistopheles? That can't be correct ..."_

_"No, no, that's all right", he grins, "I know who send it, thank you."_

_The courier frowns at him more and he ignores him in favour of inspecting the package, until he eventually leaves. The package is rather heavy, but flat and there is something rattling inside. His heart is beating so fast he can't even be mad about the fact that M3PHISTO didn't show up in person. This is it, this is his first clue. He hastily throws some bills on the table to pay for his tea and makes his way to his apartment, where he knows he will be secure. He changes train lines several times, takes a cab for two stops and keeps the package clutched tightly to his chest for the short distances he has to walk. He only really breathes out the second he bolts his door behind him._

_He nearly trips over his shoes when he slips out of them to fall on his bed. He tries to be methodical with opening the package, but his fingers shake of excitement and he tears the brown paper in some places. The first thing falling into his hands when he opens the package is a letter. It reads_ **CADEL _._**

 

 

 

 

 

_He rereads the letter at least twice before he pulls a sleek laptop out of the package. He turns it around in his hands checking on any kind of outside modulation. He knows he has to treat carefully with this. When he finds none he powers it up.And grins._

_The fail safe protocols that guard the content of the laptop are his own. He takes them apart without any kind of effort. And gasps._

_Because what he is greeted with, what lies beneath the gates of his code is not what he expected. No._ Oh god no _. He expected another location, another clue maybe, he expected anything but this._

_"Oh my god--", he presses his hands over his mouth so he doesn't have to hear his own voice break._

_This--_

_He feels nauseous._ Oh shit _._

 _This is everything. Every little detail he didn't yet know. It's everything beyond ruining credit scores and_ **M3PHISTO** _selling his code. It's everything from killing for the MI6 to starting civil wars. It's everything from detailed plans to gruesome corpses-- NO_

_"No, this can't be true, this can't be true, this can't be true--", he chants for himself while he grabs his own laptop and hacks into MI6 servers with quick and sloppy moves._

_"--this can't be true, this can't be, no, no--", he chants as he sorts through the files of one Tiago Rodriguez and confirms that, yes, everything he just read is true._

_"--no, no, no--", he chants as his security system alerts him that his careless attack on MI6 serves has been detected._

_He bites his lip to stop chanting, because he knows he is going to be sick._

_He erases the hard drive of_ **M3PHISTO’s** _laptop on pure instinct, rips the shell apart with smashing it against the headboard of his bed and then sets it on fire in his dustbin._

_He is able to see the first flames rise before he doubles overand vomits all over his carpet._

_He is still lying on the floor in his own vomit when a man calling himself Tanner points a gun to his head and tells him to follow him to HQ._

 

 

Q tries to avoid killing them. He could have done so easily when he gathered them for the first time, but at the time he still needed them to track down the remainders of the network. There are also other, more efficient, ways to bring men down than death.

But then again, sometimes they are just too good to find anything to convict them, and other times no prison could do justice to their terrible deeds. He considered hiring someone to take them out, but there is just no one he could trust. No one except for himself.

He doesn't regret it. He really doesn't.

Not until his hands are covered in blood for the first time and he suddenly can't breathe. 

 

 

 

Bond follows **CADELS's** traces from France to Russia and from Russia to the US. There is never any real prove of his existence and Bond feels like he is being played.

 

 

When Bond comes home from his latest mission he doesn't call out to Q.He is too well trained to make any kind of sound upon entering and the faint noise of the shower indicates that Q wouldn't hear him anyway. Also he enjoys to startle Q in the middle of whatever private work he is doing at home. The surprise in Q's eyes always looks as if he genuinely wonders why Bond is still here. 

He smiles to himself while he toes his shoes of and goes to hang his jacket. Before he can get near the hallstand he stops in mid motion.

There is a bright red trail of blood winding itself towards the bathroom.

"Q?!", Bond shouts as he sprints to the bathroom so fast he nearly slips on the bloody trail. "Q, are you alri-- "

He finds the young Quartermaster hunched naked in the shower, feet drawn up to his body, arms wrapped around himself. His wet hair hides whatever part of his head peaks out from his barrier of limps.

"Oh bloody hell...", his breath catches in his throat.

Q's blood soaked clothes litter the floor and Bond stumbles over them to sink downon his knees in front of the younger man. The ice cold spray of water seems to soak him right through to his bones.

"Q, are you hurt? Look at me!", he presses while he skims his hands over Q's skin to check for any obvious kind of injury. When there is no kind of response he grabs Q's shoulders and shakes. "Q, damn it, look at me!"

Q does. And Bond freezes.

Q's eyes are completely empty. He looks at him, looks him straight in the eyes and seems to look right through him. As if it didn't really matter, as if nothing really mattered.

 _What's wrong?_ , Bond wants to ask, but he can't, he can't because he already knows. He's been here before, he has seen that look before, he has seen it in the exact same setting, on a face as pretty as Q's. He's seen it in his own reflection years and years ago. It's the look you get after you watched someone die for the first time. It's the look you get when you lose that one significant part of yourself.  

Bond lets himself sink on the floor besides Q and pulls the younger mans shivering form into his arms. He allows himself to take his hands away from Q only for a second to turn the water on warm. After that he wraps his arms around his lover like iron.

No matter how much he doesn't want to remember, he's been here before. He sat on the floor of a shower, the person most dear to him cradled in his arms. He's been here and it ended in tragedy.

He buries his face into Q's hair so he doesn't have to look on. There is no blood on Q's body, not anymore at least. He is not injured. It is not his own blood.But Bond can't ask were the blood came from because acknowledging it would be acknowledging that something is wrong.

And he can't do that. He can't live through that again. He can't-- 

"There's something wrong with you ...", Bond whisper into Q's hair and the younger man laughs.

 

 

 

_They offer him a deal. They will drop the charges against him in exchange for his work and future services._

_Tanner sits across from him in the interrogation room and looks him straight into the eyes, "You are too valuable to waste away in prison", he tells him._

_He is still in shock, he is still feeling as if he's going to pass out any second, but he is not stupid, so he nods and takes the deal._

_"What was on the laptop that you torched?", Tanner asks right before they get down to the paperwork._

_He swallows and clenches his hands beneath the table. This is it. This is the chance to tell them about_ **M3EPHISTO** _. About the fact that, for the last three years, he has been in contact with an agent they thought dead. That what he found on that laptop would make them wish he actually was._

_He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Tanner crooks his head and raises an eyebrow at him._

_"What was on that laptop, boy?"_

_"Nothing. ", he swallows, "Nothing I couldn't recreate, that is. Just a simple failsafe protocol."_

_"Well you should have used that when you hacked us", Tanner tells him casually and he knows that the agent doesn't believe a word he said. It doesn't matter as long as he is of value to them._

_He will learn how to be a good liar in time._

 

 

 

Q starts screaming in his sleep and Bond stops taking any kind of missions outside of London so that at night he can pull Q against his chest until the screaming stops.

 

 

_It's been 7 years now. He is 25 and if he does everything right he will be promoted head of Q Branch in the foreseeable future. It's been 7 years now since he left what he thought was most important to him behind._

_He's doing fine, better than fine, really._

_"Hello neighbour!" The woman from the apartment beside his calls to him as he unlocks his door. "I've got something for you!"_

_"Hello, Margery", he answers with a little smile as he watches her duck inside again. She is a sweet person. When he happens to be home at evenings he sometimes looks after her two little daughters._

_"There it is." She reappears to hand him a flat rectangular package. He nearly drops it._

_"The courier who brought it said it was coming from a guy named Mephistopheles, but we both agreed that that must be some kind of pseudonym. I hope you know what this is about!", she tells him with a little wink. Maybe she doesn't see how pale he's become, maybe she doesn't want to see._

_He thanks her hurriedly and bolts the door behind him for the first time since he moved in._

_He wants to set the package on fire right away, but before he can even blink he finds himself opening it with shaky fingers. He tears the brown packaging in more than one place. Inside there is a laptop and a letter. It says_ CADEL _._

_His fingers skim over the edges of the pristine white paper, considering, but just as he moves to open it his phone rings. It's Tanner._

_"There has been a bomb attack on SIS headquarters. You are promoted Quartermaster with immediate effect. Get your arse down here!"_

_"Yes, sir!", he answers without hesitation, while he stashes the laptop away somewhere in the depth of his closet._

_When he hastily pulls his coat on he realizes that he is still holding the unopened envelope. He stuffs it into the inner pocket of his trench coat and pretends to forget about it._

 

 

 

It's the night before the final act of his plan that it happens.

Q might have overlooked it, if not for the fact that he is lying awake the whole time. He is used to Bond’s nightmares by now, as used as he is to his own. Their terrors seem to have synchronised with each other in some strange kind of way, though lately Bonds became less frequent and his own rose in number.

This is different tough. Normally the agent would trash and turn, mumble under his breath or just stand up to go for a run in the middle of the night. But today he just lays perfectly still. What catches Q's attention are the tears streaming down Bonds face, reflecting in the moonlight.

"James?",he asks gently as he skids a little closer to Bond until he can touch the others arm.

As soon as Q makes contact Bond shoots up and out of his dream and grabs Q's wrist with the speed and vice of a snake. There is a beat of silence where the moonlight casts their faces in haunting shadows. Then Bond seems to deflate even though the grip on Q's wrist remains. 

"I can't lose you", Bond rasps and Q is sure the grip around his wrist will bruise, "I can't lose you, I can't lose another part of me, I can't, Q, I can't--", the agent chantsuntil Q presses their lips together.

Bond takes him slowly this time, intimately. Like he knows what he is about to lose. 

"I love you", he breaths into Q's neck when he comes and Q realizes that he will be the end of James Bond after all.

 

 

 

_"Shit, Shit, Shit!", he swears as he rips the network cables out of Silva’s laptop, "He hacked us."_

_He sees the confused looks on his colleges faces, can particularly feel them wondering how their leader could have been so stupid as to connect their network to the laptop of a known criminal, he sees them thinking that this is his fault, and he wants to laugh, because damn, they are so wrong, while still being so right. But he can't laugh, because he is so terrified his throat feels like sandpaper and his hands shake when the tries to take a sip from his tea._

_They are so wrong because no one could ever get into his system, not even over their private network. The only person who could do that is himself and himself alone. And that is the reason they are so right, because the codes that Silva used, the codes that he used to destroy them are, in fact, his own. This is, in fact, his own fault._

  **  
**

**NOT SUCH A CLEVER BOY**

_He reads on the blazing screen before him and realizes that even after 7 years he is far from being fine._

 

 

Bond is awoken by the ringing of his phone.

With the nightmare and Q comforting him after he didn't really get enough sleep and so he doesn't manage any more movement than pulling his phone from the nightstand to his ear.

"Bond", he grumbles into the receiver as hushed as possible. There is no need to wake Q.

"007, we need you down at HQ in fact of immediately. Q has been taken", Tanner informs him in clipped tones.

 _That's ridiculous_ , Bond wants to laugh, but holds himself back for the sake of keeping their relationship a secret, _Q is right here in bed beside m_ \--   

There is no one there.

"Q?", he calls confused, but the only one that answers him is Tanner.

"Yes, 007, Q. He activated his distress signal about an hour ago. We double checked, but it doesn't seem to be a glitch in the system. We have nothing on his whereabouts since then. We need you down at HQ, Bo--", he hangs up on Tanner and scrambles out of bed and into his trousers.

This can't be. Q was lying beside him the whole time, and he refuses to believe that he was oblivious to an attempt to kidnap the Quartermaster. There is no way he's been taken, it seems like only moments ago he told him that he...

"Q?!", he shouts through the empty flat while efficiently buttoning his shirt. Just to make sure. There is no answer. When he grabs his jacked and holster from the hallstand he realizes his gun is missing. _Shit._ Did he take it out to clean it? Swearing under his breath he ducks into the kitchentofind his Walther sitting on the kitchen table. He grabs it hurriedly and nearly misses the note that skitters to the floor with lifting it. He picks it out of the air more of reflex then of intention.  

 

 

 

 

It says on one side, the other is an address. He checks the magazine of his Walther and runs.

 

 

 

_"I need you to lay a trail of breadcrumbs impossible to follow for anyone except Silva, think you can do it?"_

_"I'm guessing this isn't strictly official?"_

_"Not even remotely."_

_"So much for my promising career in espionage."_

_Q tells Bond as way of confirmation and he knows that by doing what Bond asks of him he will sentence the man he still admires the most to death._

 

 

 

The address leads Bond to a single room apartment in the middle of London. It must be expensive, but it looks utterly exchangeable. Just as he wants to kick in the door he realizes that it's ajar. He charges in with his Walther raised.

What greets him inside is a colorful clutter of computer equipment that seems to fill out every bit of space available. The windows a drawn with heavy curtains and the only source of light seems to be a spotlight that baths the room in a synthetic white light.

The wall right across from him is filled with photos of the men that have been dying under the name of **CADEL**.

Some of them are crossed out in bright angry red, and Bond knows that these are the ones Q killed himself. He knows that these are the ones that made Q shiver under the ice cold shower and scream in his sleep. He knows this with a startling clarity, and something clicks. 

He knows that there never was a **CADEL** , that this was always just Q.

He is not sure though if it wasn't the other way around. If there was never a Q, only a **CADEL**.

Gun still raised he goes to have a closer look. There, in midst of all the photos is a card pined on top of a rumpled and used looking piece of paper. He recognizes Q's handwriting on both of them.

 

 

 

He reads the card again and again, and he knows, but he doesn't understand. He doesn't want to understand. Because he knows the solution is right under his fingertips, literally, he only has to read the letter and he will understand. Because he knows understanding will mean losing something he isn't sure he can live without.

But then again, he has never been one to back down.

So he reads the letter. He reads it again and again, and now he knows, and now he understands, and now he feels like he is torn to pieces from the inside out.

His pone vibrates in his pocket and he considers ignoring it until he sees its M himself.

"Bond", he says and his strained voice will probably give him away.

"We just received a statement from Q, claiming to be Cadel", M informs him without greeting. "It was accompaniedby a laptop that backs this statement. The data on its hard drive consists of a detailed itemisation of Silva’s scheme and a three year protocol of correspondence between them.  I want you down at HQ right now." 

"I'm currently at his base of operation.", Bond tells M curtly, "I would like to start operating right from where I am."

"Understood. Proceed as usual." There is a short silence before M continues, stern and focused, "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Bond feels the letter lying heavy in his hand.

"No, sir."

“Good, then I have only one last question. Did you know?” M’s voice is hard, calculated. “Bond, did you know?” Cold as ice.

Bond takes a deep breath. Another. He thinks of Q’s lips on his, thinks of the weight of the Walther in his hands. Another breath. He thinks of the crossed out pictures on the wall and of the darkness in the younger mans eyes. He thinks of the letter in his hands.

“I know where to find him”, Bond says, answering M’s question without answering it.

“Then retrieve him.” M lets it go easily and Bond feels like the floor is crumbling beneath his feet.

“If retrieval is not an option”, M continues, and Bond realizes M knows about them,realizes that he has given away too much with the strain and roughness in his voice, “then terminate him.”

He takes another breath, thinks of Q’s smile and of what he told him last night. He thinks about the fact that he meant it.

 

“With pleasure”, Bond says and thinks about breaking M's neck. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go here to download Chapter 2 of Kelli's awesome podfic and  
> also visit her [tumblr](http://letseatthestars.tumblr.com/) to reblog :)
> 
> For milky_heaven's wonderful graphics go [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/938609) and [here](http://milky-haven.livejournal.com/53744.html)
> 
> Heinrich Faust is the main character in [Goethe's Faust](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goethe%27s_Faust). He is tricked and played by Mephistopheles who portrays the devil. 
> 
> Again, this is no how-to-deal-with-panic-attacks, even though I just realized it may actually seem like it. 
> 
> Also, who's able to spot all the references/homages to other fandoms? You'll get a cookie!


	4. Wicked Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He reads the letter one time. Then another. He reads on until his chest hurts so much he wants to scream.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

[♫ LISTEN - Part III](http://www.mediafire.com/listen/8pc9huefkima2pp/Rat_Under_The_Apple_Tree_-_Chapter_3.mp3%20)

* * *

 

 

It takes him longer than anticipated to step over the dried blood that is still shining vividly from the floor of Skyfall chapel. When he finally takes his seat in the front row of the old masonry the gun in his hands is as cold as the buildings walls. 

"I'm there", he hears Bonds voice announce over the ear bud that broadcasts the MI6 channels.

He can hear the sound of a car door being closed echoing through the thick door of the chapel, the click of a magazine sliding into a gun and the "I'm going in", are only audible over the ear bud.

_It won’t take long now_ , he thinks, while pulling his phone from his pocket. The numbers counting down on the display show 54 seconds.

He turns off the hum of the intercom when he hears the creaking of a heavy door, followed by the unmistakable hum of the thermal sensor in Bonds gun accepting the agents palm print.

 

"Hello James", he says and the countdown stops at zero.

_It's about 24 hours after the message of Silva's death that the letter in his parka gets too ominous to ignore._

_All around him people are already packing up and moving on, but he has a feeling that he won't be able to pack this in a box and carry it away. He's done fine until now, organizing the movement of a whole Branch keeps you from thinking to closely about the demons of your past, but now that the buzz of activity is slowly dying down there is nothing left to push it to the back of his mind._

_He fetches the envelope from his coat and retrieves down to the former labs where he is sure no one will interrupt him. He has a pretty good idea what will be on the laptop, his own codes probably, just to mock him, but the contents of the envelope are a mystery to him. It's thicker and heavier then the last. He thinks about being carful while opening it, to preserve evidence, but Silva is dead anyways, so he just rips it open. There are three pages._

_His hands are shaking when he plugs out the first._

 

 

_He reads the letter one time. Then another. It comes with his notarized birth certificate and a detailed paternity test, and he doesn't need to fake check this time. He knows deep down in his heart that it is true._

_But still he keeps rereading, he reads on until his breath comes in short gasps, until the letters start blurring together through the tears in his eyes. He reads on until his chest hurts so much he wants to scream. He reads until his stomach turns and he has no other choice than to make his way to the training room lockers next to the lab._

_He is better in handling panic attacks now, but with bile rising in his mouth and his breath stuck in his throat, he still doesn't notice Bond hiding in the shadows._

 

"Q, Status." She hears M’s request behind her. When there is no immediate answer she risks a glance to her right. The space there is empty and for a second a feeling of confusion floods her. Behind her M clears his throat.

"Q", he says again, this time with emphasis, and she turns, "status."

He looks straight into her eyes and the feeling of confusion vanishes. Its place is taken by the feeling of dread.  "We're tracking Bond's location, sir", she says and stands a little more at attention. This is what you do when you take the job of your former superior, after he turned out to be a criminal mastermind, isn't it? No matter how much you think this is bullshit.

"I can see that because of the red blinking dot that says 'Bond'. What else?"

"Uhm, we're going through the old files, anything he touched really, and we are cross referencing it with the data we acquired from the laptop. We can say for certain that Silva was only able to get into our system because he used our own codes, but, well, Q-- I mean Cadel, he kind of overhauled our whole system when your predecessor pulled him in, and if he's been working with Silva the whole time, it will take a while for us to classify how big the damage really is. To be completely honest, his code is so sophisticated half of us can't make any sense of it ..."

"Well at least we were right about how valuable he was ...", Tanner murmurs somewhere behind them and M shoots him a dry look. R, no Q, she is Q now, damn it, quickly turns towards her keyboard again. She nearly knocks over the untouched cup of Earl Grey. She brought it in without giving it any thought, just like she did every day until now. It's still hot and she guesses it's hers now. The 'Q' on the front suggests so.

"Do we have a ratio connection to Bond?", M asks pulling her out of her thoughts. 

"Yes, we--"

"I'm here, sir." Bond's voice echoes over the intercoms, "I'm nearly at Skyfall."

"Why there?", M demands calmly, "Why at Skyfall?"

There is a pause at the other end of the line, and it's probably nothing, but to her it feels like Bond is purposefully keeping quiet. Like there is something he doesn't want to tell. Not even to M.

"I found a lead at his base of operation that points towards that direction", he finally responds. There is nothing after that and the hard set of M's jaw suggests that he isn't pleased, but in the end he keeps quiet as well. Her nervous tapping seems to be the only thing that fills the silence.   

"I'm there", Bond announces at last. By now even her hurried tapping has stooped and the agent’s voice sounds loud in the new found silence. She glances back at M and Tanner who both have their arms crossed over their chests and does the same.

There is the sound of a car door being closed, the click of a magazine sliding into a gun and then "I'm going in." Tanner shoots her a look for tapping her foot and she holds her breath.

The intercom broadcasts the creaking of a heavy door, followed by the unmistakable hum of the thermal sensor in Bonds gun accepting the agents palm print.

 

"Hello James", Cadel's voice echoes through the room and every single one of their monitors goes black.

 

 

Ugly static fills Bonds ears, but he doesn't pay it any attention. He was planning on ending that transmission anyways.

The only thing he cares for is the hunched figure sitting on the bank in the front row of the chapel.

"Oh thank god", Bond breaths out, lowers his Walther and lets the tension bleed from his shoulders, "You are still alive."

Cadel looks up at him for a second, confusion visible only in his eyes, and then back at the gun that lies in his own hands. He laughs.

"How did you know?", he asks softly, casting his glance to the floor. One can still make out significant traces of Silva's blood. And of M's.

Bond puts hisWalther into safety again andlets himself glide into the vacant spot besides Cadel.

"About Skyfall?", he follows Cadel's eyes to the dried blood on the floor, "It's too meaningful of a place, for the both of us, not to pick it", he elaborates, and watches Cadel play with the safety of his own gun.

"That's not what I meant...",the younger man says. Bond sighs and gently takes the gun out of his hands.

"It was the only logical conclusion", he tells him calmly."You eliminated everyone who could be a threat to the SIS. And in your eyes that includes you."

 "With good reason ...",Cadel murmurs.

"Which would be? Except you being overly intelligent and dramatic, of course?"

"You know why", Cadel whispers. "You are, in fact, the only one who knows. Or did you show the letter to anyone else?"

Bond pats his breast pocket and Cadel huffs a laugh, "I thought so ... always loyal. This time it's just to the wrong side."

"That depends on who you ask...", Bond shrugs, earning another laugh from Cadel.

"It really doesn't. Not in my case. I'm not a good person, James." He smiles and he knows that it's with an edge of desperation. "It's true what they say, 'The apple doesn't fall that far from the tree'."

His eyes fall to the gun now resting in Bonds lap.

"It's in my, or better to say, in our nature", he continues, "If we follow through on our metaphor, I am the apple and you are, as my dear father would have put it, the rat under the apple tree ..."

Bond is quiet for a moment, contemplating his next words while silently memorizing the outlines of M's blood on the floor.  "I never came here to kill you", he says at last.

"No?", Cadel sights, eyes now tightly locked on the guns trigger, "I would have hoped so."

"I came here to tell you that you're an idiot", Bond says to that and then, more quiet: "And that it's alright now."

"It's not, James, it really isn't. You've seen it, you've seen everything I did. There is no happy ending for me in this ..."

"That's not true, you are not responsible for what your father--"

"--James,", Cadel cuts him short, hands curling around Bonds which are still holding the gun, "please", he breaths and Bond gets lost in the darkness of Cadel's eyes.

The gun feels heavy in his hands and the plea in the younger mans eyes makes him want to give him everything he desires.

 

"Please."Cadel begs again and the undertow of that eyes drags Bond deeper and deeper, makes his hand curl around the stock of the gun, deeper until the only thing he sees is--

 

 

_"I don't think even Silva would spot that", Tanner notes sceptical and an enigmatic smile dances across Q's lips._

_"He's the only one who could."_

 

In retrospective, Tanner thinks, he should have known.

 

 

"I hope you are here to tell me Bond has returned?", M tells Eve when she enters his office without knocking. It's been 24 hours.

"He hasn't", she says after taking a deep breath, "But there is something else I would like to talk to you about."

She waits for him to look at her before she continues. "What is it you need?", he inquires and the look on his face says that they both know why she is here.

"The forensic team that secured the evidence at Cadel's flat found belongings that are unmistakably attributable to Bond."

"I know", he taps the file in front of him, "I have the report right here."

"Sir, they--",she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, "They found Bond's traces all over the place, fingerprints, hairs on the pillow, for god's sake, the found indications that they were--"

Eve stops and puts her hands against her hips. M waits for her to state it herself.

"That they were having an affair", she says at last.

"What is it you want me to do?", M asks after a beat of silence.

She worries her lip in indecision. "Did you know?"

"I suspected."

"Suspected." Eve snorts and shakes her head in disbelief. "Fine. Since when did you suspect?"

"Miss Moneypenny ..."

"Since when?!", she bites out, "Since before you send Bond to _kill his lover_?"

"I did what I thought--"

"--You _used_ him. Do you see that? He's been betrayed by the person he loved before, you know that, you _had to know_ , and instead of protecting him--"

"--I what?", M cuts in sharply, "I used a available and _reliable_ agent to his full potential? I left the private life of said agent out of the equation, like I, and you for that matter, should? Yes. Yes I did all that. I'm not Bond’s babysitter,I'm the head of the SIS. I looked at the matter at hand and I said yes when Bond asked me himself if he could take the mission." M closes the file in front of him with finality.

"And I would do so again", he says.

Before Eve can say anything else there is a knock at the door. It's Q.

"Sir?", she says as she ducks her head in, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we ... I think we found something."

"Please come in." He casts a quick glance at Moneypenny, who makes it a point to stay, before he nods at Q to proceed. The young woman looks like she is about to fall asleep right where she is standing. It's seems like the only thing keeping her awake is the steaming tea mug in her hands, that reads 'Q'.

"I have good and, uhm, strange news", she starts and her voice sounds as tired as she looks, "The good news is that all our systems are back online. We ran independent control programs and everything seems to be operating normal. And that is the point where we come to our strange news. When our systems shut down 24 hours ago we were sure that this was a deliberate attack on the SIS, the intended target of Cadel's plan so to speak, but when the system slowly started rebooting about an hour later we began to suspect that there was something more behind it. We checked and, well, the system that rebooted after the blackout is nothing like our old one. It might look the same, the interface that is, but the code at the bottom of it? It's completely new!"

"What exactly are you telling me right now?", M request, brows furrowed.

"I'm telling you,", Q says, and there is a gleam in her eyes that shines through her tiredness, "that the system our servers run on now is _nothing_ like anything any of us has ever seen, nothing like anything on the market, and definitely nothing that will be there anytime soon. It's perfect, beautifully so. So perfect in fact, that none of us really understands it."

"So what you are telling us is, that Cadel didn't destroy our system, he improved it?", M looks at her sceptical.

"Yes, Sir, that's exactly what I'm telling you", Q confirms agitated.

"How can we know that this is not part of the plan? How can we be sure that he didn't build this system for someone else to use, like he did with Silva?"

"Because they are all dead", Eve answers."Because they are all dead or in prison", she says and her voice drops with realization. "Cadel designed a system nobody could get into and then he went and made damn sure of it. He took Silva’s old network out of the game, one by one, until in the end he was the only one who could pose a threat, so he -- _oh god_."

"--so he made sure we would send Bond to kill him.", Q finishes for her, breathless, "He made sure Bond would despise him so much he'd actually do it."

"Why didn't we know?", Eve asks and her voice brakes.

M keeps silent.

 

 

 

Bond is back at HQ after 48 hours.

There is not a single scratch on him but he still looks like he is dead.

 

 

It takes another 2 hours until Bond is standing in M's office.

The medical staff declared him fit enough to walk around and the psychiatrist gave up on him a considerably long time ago. He looks pale and tired, even in his neatly pressed suit.

"About Cadel...", M starts after a while.

"It's all taken care of", Bond answers with finality.

M nods once, then he taps the file him front of him, "I thought you might be interested in his real name."

Bond knows that this is M's way of an apology. It's all he is going to get. M offers the file to him and he doesn't take it. He doesn't want it, because it doesn't matter.

"Don't worry about it", he says and pulls an envelope out of his inner jacket pocket.

"What is that?", M asks perplexed  as Bond hands it to him.

"My letter of resignation", Bond tells him with a smile and walks way without looking back.

 

 

\-- _love._

_"--Please", Cadel says again, hisfingers curling around Bonds wrists and suddenly he understands._

_"You had it all planed out, hadn't you?", he smiles and pulls his hands, along with the gun, out from under Cadel's, "If you were just planning on killing yourself, why plant all the clues? Why bring me here?"_

_"What--?" Cadel frowns at him, following Bonds movements as he quietly disassembles the gun._

_"Because you knew you wouldn't be able to do it, didn't you?", Bond places the gun parts out of Cadel's reach and crooks his head, "You never actually planned to show me the letter, that's why you had to rewrite it, you destroyed the original. But then I told you I love you and you realized that just crossingthe MI6 might not be good enough anymore. And so you left me the letter to make sure I would, in fact, kill you. You left it to ensure I would hate you enough to do it."_

_"I--", Cadel starts and bites his lip._

_"But there is still one flaw in your plan, one reason why it didn't work.", Bond cuts him short, "It's the reason why you knew you wouldn't be able to pull the trigger, or more accurately it's the fact that said reason became clear to me before you could convince me to hate you ... before you could convince me that it was all just one elaborate lie."_

_"It was a lie, it was all just--"_

_"--What was it that stopped you from being able to kill yourself?", Bond enquires again._

_"I just-- I couldn't do it ... I am a coward, that's all", the younger man replies shakily._

_"I told you once before that you are a bad liar."_

_"I think I've proven that I'm really not--"_

_"--Cadel", Bond snarls with steel in his voice, "What was it that stopped you?", he presses and the younger man finally brakes._

_"_ You, James! _",he bursts out, "I thought of you and I knew I couldn't!"_

_He reaches up to clasp his hands over his mouth the same instance, knowing that he said too much, knowing that this, ultimately, means the end to all of his plan, but still trying to push the words back into his mouth. Bond catches his wrists mid air._

_"I wasn't able to leave you like this", Cadel sobs then and Bond pulls him into his arms._

_"I hadn't planned for you to fall in love with me...", he sniffs and buries his face in Bonds neck._

_"You gave me the promise that I could come back to you.", Bond reminds him softly._

_"Or for me to fall in love with you", Cadel adds then._

_"I hadn't planned for any of that either", Bond laughs and bends down to place a kiss in his hair._

_They stay like that for a while and Cadel calms himself with counting the beats of Bonds heart through his lips on the older man's neck._

_"I'm getting you home now", Bond murmurs after a while and Cadel doesn't object._

 

 

"What do you want?", Bond rumbles as he slides into the booth across from Eve. It's about a week since he resigned.

"Just to catch you before you go off to god knows where", she smiles and slides a take away cup of coffee towards him.

"How did you get the idea that I was going somewhere?", he frowns at her and turns the cup in his hands. It's still hot. He takes a sip--

\--and promptly screws up his face. 

"That's not coffee", he spits in a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"No it isn't. It's tea. Earl Grey, in fact", Eve laughs.  

"I don't drink--"

"It's not for you", she smiles and whatever Bond intended to say, it dies on his tongue.

There is a beat of silence where they just look at each other, and Eve thinks that Bond might be contemplating if it wouldn't just be easier to kill her here and now.

"How is he?", she asks at last. 

It's followed by another stretch of silence where Bond's shoulders tense and his inner fight is displayed clearly in his eyes, but then finally he sights and lets the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

"How did you know?", he asks and she finds this is as good a confirmation as any.

"People died in your wake, a lot of people, but you never even thought about quitting, not after Vesper, not after M.", she explains softly, casting her eyes at his calloused hands that cradle the unwanted cup of tea, "The only time you did quit, was when you fell in love."

She looks up in time to see a smile hush over his lips. She knows it's not intended for her.

"Thank you for the tea." Bond is still smiling as he stands and turns to leave.

"Did M appreciate your thoughtfulness as much as I did?", he asks right before he is out the door.

"Oh no." Eve laughs and gives him a small wink. "I would never serve him anything other than coffee!"

"Of course you wouldn't.", Bond shakes his head slightly, "Take care." He smirks and leaves for good.

 

 

Home, for now, is a house at the coast of France. In front of it the evening waves roll over the beach while the setting sun paints haunted pictures across the cliffs. The still warm tiles of the balcony tingle against Bonds bare feet as he steps out to stand behind Cadel.

"I never asked why you didn't come to Skyfall with the intention of killing me.",the younger man states as Bond wraps his arms around him. 

"Oh? I thought that would have been obvious ...", Bond murmurs while he buries his nose in the other mans hair, "I even told you the night before."

"Because of love?", Cadel snorts skeptical and Bond laughs.

"Because I couldn't afford to lose you", the agent whispers with a smile, "And because, considering the amount of people I've already lost, I'm allowed to be a little selfish on that matter." 

Cadel sights, "I had my hopes up when I heard you say 'With pleasure'."

"You listened in?", there is no real surprise behind the question.

"Of course I did. You could say I had a rather personal investment in the outcome of this situation ...", Cadel shrugs. Bond places a caste kiss on his hair and huffs another laugh.

They stay like that for a while, Cadel closing his eyes against the last rays of sun, while Bond places soft kisses on his hair, in time with the beats of the rolling waves.

"Are you sure you want to stay?", Cadel asks at last, burying himself a little tighter into Bonds embrace.

 

"With pleasure", Bond says then and they both know he means it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go here to download Chapter 3 of Kelli's awesome podfic and  
> also visit her [tumblr](http://letseatthestars.tumblr.com/) to reblog :)
> 
> For milky_heaven's wonderful graphics go [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/938609) and [here](http://milky-haven.livejournal.com/53744.html)
> 
> A big THANK YOU to all of you who read to the end! Comments, opinions, questions and critique is always appreciated ;)
> 
> And again a big thank you to my two lovely artists [Kelli](http://letseatthestars.tumblr.com/), who helped me stay sane, and [milky_haven](http://archiveofourown.org/users/milky_haven/pseuds/milky_haven%0A), who's graphics made the story look so much more alive!

**Author's Note:**

> The unofficial summary for this was ...
> 
> This is not your friendly neighborhood story. No flirting, just angst, 00 work and a lot of hacking. Prepare for 22k angst and happy ending so sweet and unexpected it will give you diabetes!


End file.
